


Doubt

by prinanalogicality



Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, based off of the song Doubt by top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinanalogicality/pseuds/prinanalogicality
Summary: I received an ask on tumblr with a request for a fic to be based off of the song Doubt by twenty one pilots. Anxiety and Roman are in a relationship. Despite that, Anxiety doesn’t believe that he is someone that deserves to be loved. Roman disagrees.





	Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> This can also be found on my tumblr, prinanalogicality. I take requests! :)

Anxiety looks at his reflection in the mirror, a firm frown set on his lips. The bags under his eyes have gotten so dark that he hardly needs the eyeshadow anymore, yet he puts it on to keep anyone from seeing that there is a real problem. It is about 3 a.m., and despite that, Anxiety hasn’t had a wink of sleep. Roman is still in bed, Anxiety’s bed, sleeping soundly, oblivious to the fact that his boyfriend is still awake. Anxiety swears that Roman seems to relax and sleep more soundly when he isn’t in the bed with him.

Running a hand through his messy, tangled fringe, Anxiety breathes out a huff and turns away from the mirror in favor of leaning against the sink, locked away in the bathroom. He can hardly face the royal anymore. Every kiss, every hug, every look, every smile. It all feels like lies. There is no way Roman genuinely loves Anxiety. In the beginning of their relationship, they were very active with their intimacy, but the last time they were even remotely intimate was three weeks ago. Roman must be losing his interest in the relationship. They’ve been together for almost nine months now, well past the mark where a relationship is still considered new and fresh. The novelty is fading. It is time for Roman to find a new conquest.

Anxiety feels a burning behind his eyes and curses, curling his fingers into fists, nails biting into his palms and banging the side of the counter as he makes the conscious effort to keep back tears. He refuses to cry over this. He should have known from the start that what he had with Roman was expendable. It wasn’t meant to last. Nothing ever is, except maybe the negativity that is ingrained into Anxiety’s very being. This is what he is, he is an embodiment of negativity that gives negativity and nothing but.

The sound of light footsteps and a quiet knock on the door makes his blood run cold, in which he chews on his lower lip, weighing out what he should do. He knew he cursed too loud, he must have woken someone up- more than likely Morality. The man is the lightest sleeper to ever exist, and he sleeps with his door open. He considers it a precautionary measure, in case any of the other sides need him. He must have heard Anxiety’s cursing and came to the rescue. The sound of a paperclip hitting the ground could probably wake him up.

With a shake of his head, Anxiety slowly opens the door, in fact seeing Morality standing on the other side. The man looks sleepy, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses with one hand, yawning. Anxiety instantly feels a pang of guilt at having woken up the male, in which he averts his gaze and stares down at his sock-clad feet, his toes digging into the tiles of the bathroom floor.

“Ann? Are you all right, kiddo?” Morality asks, his voice slightly slurred with sleep. “What time is it?” The concern of the other makes warmth threaten to creep into Anxiety’s chest, but he quickly stifles it. He should feel bad about waking Morality up.

“I’m fine. Sorry for waking you, Mor. Go back to bed. It’s like… three? I don’t know.” Anxiety makes a conscious effort to keep his voice controlled, but despite his effort, Morality obviously picks up that not everything is peachy keen. Anxiety can tell by the way Morality frowns, leaning against the door frame, arms slowly crossing over his chest.

“How about you come back to my room with me for a bit? We can chat there, no worries, right?” He invites Anxiety slowly, eyes peering over Anxiety’s entire being, trying to detect any sort of reaction from the male.

“I said I’m fine, yeah?”

“And I said let’s go back to my room. Come on, silly goose!” Morality speaks in a peppy tone and reaches out for Anxiety’s pajama sleeve, in which he tugs and Anxiety sighs, following Morality with reluctance. Once they are securely in Morality’s room, the male shuts the door and turns to face Anxiety, taking a seat on his bed. “Now, how about you tell dad what’s bothering you, huh?”

“I told you, nothing.”

Morality sighs, shaking his head. “You know full well that I can tell something is on your mind. Maybe I can help you out if you let me know?”

Anxiety looks down at his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed carefully, fingers fiddling with the ends of the sleeves of his pajama shirt. If he is to tell anyone about what it is that is bothering him, he supposes that Morality would be the person he would go to. Morality is so kind, and he offers productive advice when he can. “Promise me that you will not tell Roman, no matter what.”

Morality looks taken aback, but he nods nonetheless. “All right, son.”

“Do you think… no. I think - I know - there is no way he really… There’s no way he truly… wants me. Loves me. Not- me. I’m too, for lack of a better word, me.”

The admittance makes Anxiety frown, his hands shaking, neck itching. He chews on his lower lip, tugging at his sleeves- all while Morality watches, a solemn expression on his face.

“You really believe he doesn’t love you?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust him. I do… just. he can’t love me. Not me. I’m not someone who is loved. Who can be loved.”

Silence. Anxiety is met with silence, only further stressing out the male. 

“Look, maybe I should just-”

“Anxiety, please look at me.”

It takes all Anxiety has to do as he is asked, and in turn he meets Morality’s eyes. They hold a sadness Anxiety has never seen from the man before. It hurts his heart to see.

“Roman adores you. We all do. Of course you deserve love, just like anyone else.” Morality reaches out for one of Anxiety’s hands, squeezing gently. “You are so important, Anxiety. You and Roman love each other, yeah?”

Anxiety looks over Morality’s sincere expression for a few moments before turning away, pulling his hand back and standing. “Thanks.” He mumbles, glancing in Morality’s direction. “Just- go to bed. I’m sorry for waking you.” He silently pads out of Morality’s room, heading back to his own bedroom. Roman is fast asleep still, arms open. He knows he shouldn’t, but Anxiety is selfish. He craves being close to Roman, being held by him. So, he lays in Roman’s open arms, and sighs shakily at the feeling of the embrace that comes quickly, hugging him close. He can revel in this feeling of completion for one more night, right?

“Why won’t you even look at me?” Roman huffs at his boyfriend, in which Anxiety is making a point to sit as far from Roman as possible on the sofa. “I wasn’t aware that we were fighting. What happened?”

“Nothing.” Anxiety answers simply, shrugging his shoulders. The two are sat on opposite sides of the sofa, Logan is in his room reading, and Morality is sat on the chair in the living room, watching the two interact, though he tries to hide his spying behind a newspaper.

“We would be cuddling if nothing was wrong. Talk to me, what’s going on with you, honeybee?” Roman turns to face Anxiety, scooting and reaching out for him. In turn, Anxiety presses himself against the opposite armrest, hiding his face against the sofa side.

“You should learn when to back off, Roman. I don’t want to talk.”

Anxiety can practically feel Roman’s hurt.

It is midnight. Anxiety hears a knock on his door and Roman requesting to come in, but he can’t bother to get up to answer it.

Eventually, footsteps can be heard walking away.

Morality watches from the sidelines as Anxiety’s fears tear his and Roman’s relationship apart. He watches as Roman desperately tries to talk to Anxiety, but Anxiety either leaves the room or blatantly ignores him. He watches as Roman soon stops trying to talk to Anxiety so often. He watches as what light Anxiety had in his eyes seems to fade. He watches as Roman becomes more short tempered and bitter.

He watches as they finally break off their relationship.

“Prince, seriously, you’re annoying the holy hell out of me. I don’t want to talk about anything, I don’t want to talk to you, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because you are my boyfriend! Anxiety, please, you won’t even call me by my name anymore. You’re pushing me away, I know you are. Can you even tell me why?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t date anymore if I have to deal with your interrogation. This is bull, honestly.”

Anxiety doesn’t know what to do. He always felt so alone, but after feeling what it is like to not be, losing the togetherness leaves a gaping hole in his chest, bigger than before. He doesn’t have Roman to turn to when the darkness closes in, when he is so overwhelmed by the fears that he embodies and they become a part of him and he lets go, hot tears pouring down his cheeks and his lungs burning for a full, non-hyperventilating breath. Nails claw at fabric and teeth dig into lips and it is all he has, all he can register in this cycle of fear he has been cast in, locked away in the darkness of his bedroom. He has no choice but to face it alone. He was never meant to be loved, he never will be. But something he was meant for was solitude.

The bags under Anxiety’s eyes make Roman’s chest physically ache. He knows there isn’t makeup there, the black beneath his beloved’s eyes are concrete indicators of his suffering. It concerns him that Anxiety doesn’t even care enough to put his makeup on anymore. All Roman wants to do is help, to try to fix things. He doesn’t know what he did to warrant Anxiety’s bitterness towards him, but he wants to do what he can to make Anxiety love him again. Anxiety is who he loves. He wants to hold him, guide him back to the light. Anxiety won’t let him.

But Morality will.

Morality must have noticed the changes in Anxiety’s demeanor as well. How quiet he has become, how little he has been fussing over Thomas, the messiness of his appearance that has reached an extreme. All of the sides are concerned. He made a promise, but sometimes promises cannot be kept. Morality chooses to speak to Roman. Roman needs to know.

“You can’t be mad at me, but - I made a promise. To Anxiety. And I mean, I know promises are meant to be kept and I always keep mine, but I really can’t keep this one anymore. “I was never supposed to tell you about this, but you need to know, I think.” Morality takes the time to clear his throat, eyes watering at the mere memory of what Anxiety had said. He wishes there was something he could do to help the darker trait feel better about himself. “He needs help. You know how he is, stubborn. He thinks of the worst in situations, but I know he’s been trying to get better about that. But he- he doesn’t feel like he really deserves to be… loved. Like how you love him. That’s what he told me, and I tried to tell him otherwise, but he doesn’t really listen…”

Roman is so upset that his love, his Sunshine, his beloved could think so lowly of himself that he isn’t upset with Morality for keeping his promise for so long.

There’s a knock at his door again. Anxiety has the desire to chuck something at it, but currently, he’s half asleep, between the brink of falling asleep into a blissful nap and waking up to address that darn door. But the knocking doesn’t stop this time, no matter how long Anxiety ignores it, to the point that eventually he huffs and stomps over to the door to open, glaring at the culprit.

He wasn’t expecting to see Roman standing there, holding an obnoxiously large bouquet of red roses.

Anxiety steps back to shut his door, but Roman is quick to step forward, looking at Anxiety with pleading eyes. “Let me show you.”

“Show me what?” Anxiety clears his throat, coughing into the crook of his arm awkwardly. He knows he must look awful. He feels embarrassed, looking the way he does while standing in front of a masterpiece like Roman. The man is perfect.

“Let me show you that I love you. That you deserve all of the love in the world, because you are so beautiful. So honest, so charming, so humorous, so caring. Please, Anxiety.” Roman’s voice is raw with emotion, so raw that Anxiety is taken aback, his cheeks pooling with warmth.

“What do you- what, did Morality-”

“You need help, Anxiety. And I know it must be difficult for you, but the three of us are here for you. I am so in love with you that just being apart from my beloved for these past few weeks has been paining me, I need you in my life again. I miss your little smiles, I miss how you would move in a way that would ask me to do certain things for you and I could just read you like a book, I miss your kisses, I miss holding your hand, I miss watching Disney movies with you and listening to you tell me about your silly dark theories. Please, let me love you. Let me teach you to love yourself.”

Anxiety can’t help but to laugh softly to himself after Roman’s speech, tears in his eyes, and Roman’s fingers tremble at the implications. Maybe Anxiety really wants him gone.

“Your romantic speeches will be the death of me. Enough of this feelings talk, just - come in, okay?”

Roman does so with a grin brighter than the sun, and as Anxiety replays the words Roman spoke in his mind, the slightest bit of warmth manages to find its way to his chest.

Maybe someone like him is allowed to be loved.


End file.
